


A Thing That Knows

by GhostHost



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Lovecraftian Monster(s), Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Possession, The matrix as a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 19:02:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13887162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostHost/pseuds/GhostHost
Summary: Optimus Prime accepted the Matrix with open arms and has been trying to rip it out of his chest ever since.He has succeeded thrice--only the third time, it's not his chest he has to remove it from.(The first part of this was posted on Tumblr, it has been completed to include it's other two parts.)





	A Thing That Knows

**Author's Note:**

> I FINALLY FINISHED THIS holy shit. 
> 
> The Matrix in this fic was compared to the Jumanji board game and I was going to make a joke about Hot Rod hearing drums but the tone wasn't right haha. I'm also 90% sure I spelled Syk wrong. 
> 
> Warnings: Possession, mind control, burns, erasing memories, people dying and coming back, general master ring vibes haha. 
> 
> If you read the first part of this on Tumblr, the new part starts at the second xXx.

I'm lost in the woods  And I wander alone

Hellfire, hellfire

Take my soul.  I'm waiting, waiting

I'm ready to go

Hellfire--Barns Courtney 

 

* * *

 

I won’t ever tell him it’s not me who understands. I won’t ever tell any of them.

It’s the Matrix.

It’s all the Matrix.

To an extent, Primus, as well--though the Matrix is it’s own entity. Not a being, exactly, but not unintelligent. 

A thing that _ knows.  _

It looks through my eyes, feels through my field and it understands. All those around me, all those who are open to it. It understands each and every single Cybertronian it comes into contact with. It gives me insight, tells me what to say. How to say it. Sometimes it steals my mouth, speaks in my voice. Sometimes it takes the reins, chokes me and steers the course of history itself. 

It can’t understand Megatron--and that frustrates it. He’s not the only one it can’t touch, but he’s the only one it truly wants too--to reach, to break through too. It has tried countless times, in ways even I will never relate, in attempts to understand the Tyrants psyche. It won’t ever get it, get him. He’s too far gone.

I’ve tried telling it that.

It won’t listen.

I don’t care for Megatron’s life. Not like how I used too. If you ask me he’s gone utterly insane and that’s why the relic can’t read him. You can’t rationalize with an illness. It’s not how it works. But the Matrix won’t give up. Stubbornness is apparently hardwired into it, and through it, me. My army--my subordinates, my friends grow frustrated with me every day, that I won’t put an end to all of this. That I won’t authorize more force, more spies, more  _ something. _ That I won’t  _ do  _ something.

I don’t blame them. I’m frustrated too. 

We’ve killed nearly all our people. Our planet is dying, right along with our entire species and all of it’s being thrown away for the price of a few mechs. There is no doubt within my mind that if Megatron and some of his command were to parish, that the war would continue. Drag on, certainly, but not for long. It would end quietly, with a lot less deaths. 

The Matrix doesn’t like that. That kind of thought. It’s never able to quite articulate why it saves Megatron, why it wants him alive. Through the ages I’ve narrowed it down to it having something to do with the Decepticon cause, perhaps even the culture. We agreed on things needing to change, Megatron and I, and while I have no problems admitting now my ideals, my “morals” then were foolish I certainly still think things didn’t have to escalate to this point. 

I am a fool.

And I am stuck.

It’s the greatest curse in the world to be the Prime. To be the only one authorized to end the war and physically kept from giving it. 

To watch all my people die.

I understand now, why the Matrix was locked up. Why Sentinal used a fake. 

This isn’t something that should be inflicted on anyone, especially not someone in charge. 

I can only pray things will change before we’re all destroyed.

xXx

The Matrix is gone. 

Knocked out of my chest--I watch it roll away through the jolts of its powers leaving. 

For the first time in nearly a million years, I am myself.

Alone, without influence. Under my own power, able to control my own body, my own thoughts. 

Able to do what needs to be done. 

I waste no time. I know I’ll give in in a moment, I’ll go chasing after that blasted relic and stick it right back in my chest--it’s affected me for so long I can’t resist its pull. Even separated. I look frantically to see who's near me, and pray it’s one of five bots I know I can give the orders too. 

I turn left and curse, spin right and get explicitly lucky.

Jazz and Prowl.

Together.

My second and thirds, my weapon and rules. They had run to me, to defend me and I never have loved them more than in that moment. 

They skid to a stop in front of me and I bore my optics into theirs, sink power into my voice. 

“Do what you need to do to end this war.” I demand and they freeze, mouths open because I’d interrupted them both. “Do you understand me? Whatever it takes, to end this war. Anything I’ve ever said no to, everything I have --and will--say no too. I will take this back later, and demand you follow my orders and you must ignore me. Do you understand?” 

I ping them all the codes as I talk, all the little tricks we’ve devised to show that I am myself, speaking under my own power, uninfluenced and undamaged. It’s a chance they’ve--we’ve--been waiting for but I know they’re confused and I know I don’t have the time to explain. The Matrix is calling, it’s center glowing and I move backwards too it, even as I fight it’s compulsion. 

My commanders say nothing, question nothing but I can see on their faces that they need more. 

So I give it to them.

“It will not let me end him.” I say, knowing they’ll understand. If not now, then later. “It cannot control me while it’s out of my chest but it will be put back, and once it is there I cannot fight it.” I put emphasis on my words now, drawing every piece of me that is commanding, that is in charge. That wants this. “Do. Whatever. It. Takes.” 

Prowl’s optics slide over and down--to where the Matrix lay and I silently praise him, his intellect. That battle computer is as much a blessing as it is a curse. He looks back to me, nods.

He understands.

It’s all I need.

I give in, let myself be summoned, because I know it’s done. Finally, it’s done. 

What Prowl knows, Jazz knows, and it won’t be long before the bonded pair understand what’s happening. Before they come up with a plan. I can practically feel them plotting from here, minds racing with opened possibilities and it is done.

I walk towards the Matrix feeling the lightest I have in years.

Finally, we’re going to have an end. 

I can only hope whatever they come up with is good enough to escape whatever the Matrix does in attempts to stop them. 

xXx   
  


They think I don’t take up a relationship because of the rules, the old traditions. 

As always, they are wrong.

I don’t start a relationship, or even a benefits scenario, because the Matrix won’t _let_ me. I’ve tried it before. I’ve tried it with some of them even, and the cursed thing burns all it touches. 

It also alters memories.

I can’t decide what hurts more, hurting those I loved enough to try with, or having them forget entirely that anything happened--and that they felt any kind of desire for me to begin with.

It can’t seem to alter more than that--short term memory anyway, but it can alter feelings. Feelings for me. 

It can make them  _ vanish. _

There are precisely three people I know of that I can engage in relations with. The Twins are two--though the Matrix favors Sunstreaker more than his twin. I won’t ever tell either of them that, and leave them to thinking my interest is just my own desires. I tell myself they’re enough, even though neither of them are remotely monogamous. 

I don’t tell them that hurts me.

I don’t tell them my attraction to them is out of desperation to feel normal.

We don’t met up much. Not in that way. I try not to force it, particularly when they are do adverse to do anything that makes them a further target of the army. They are convinced they will be kicked out in a sparkbeat, and I worry that half our relations are a desperate attempt to gain my favor. To give me a personal attachment.

Nothing I have ever told them has managed to convince them otherwise.

Someday I hope I can tell them they’ve saved my life. 

Gave me a reason to fight, to struggle to try. To not simply give in and let the Matrix run wild. 

The third option was a mistake.

If you asked me how it started now I wouldn’t be able to explain it--other than that Starscream always had an odd effect on me. 

When he’s around, everything seems clearer. Brighter. The fight is easier, if just for a moment.

I know that’s why I sought him out. Whatever he is, it’s the antithesis to the Matrix. That alone endeared him to me, his own issues aside.

His own rank and title, aside.

I don’t know why he agreed. Why he keeps agreeing. Commiting treason isn’t something I should be able to do, and yet every time I commit it it’s a victory against the thing that holds me. It seems to be similar for him--a victory against a hold. His seems more mental than physical but I’ve never asked. 

Whatever it is, it’s freedom for both of us.

With Starscream, it’s not a decision the Matrix makes. It doesn’t allow him in, like it does the twins. He seems able to brute force it aside by the strength of his very spark and I fell for him the first time he did it. 

He’s also a complete and utter git. 

I have offered him a standing position in my own army. A high command position, control of my entire aerial forces, weak as they are. 

He hasn’t accepted. Waves it off. 

He’s going to kill me one day and I think I’ll let him do it.    
  


xXx

I had to die to be free. 

For all my involvement as a Prime you’d think I’d have an idea of what was happening, but I didn’t. My only inkling was the death of the connection, of the hold it had over me. Then it was gone, finally gone, free from my mind, my spark, my _chest-!_

I was gone, too. Everything was light, bright and-- there! Finally, the one mech I had  _ every   _ question for and no, no, I did  _ not  _ want to go back! 

Talking in that realm was weird, and the conversation felt like less of one and more of an exchange--of thoughts, person, information--and it wasn’t what I _wanted._

I didn’t think I could be persuaded to go back. Not for anything. Anyone. 

I loved the mechs I’d protected, but I. Was. Done.

Nothing could convince me otherwise.

Of course I was wrong.

My job wasn't done. I was shown that, shown what would happen if did not return.

Even in death, I had no control. 

I wasn’t stupid about it at least. I got what I demanded.

This time, I would be prepared--defended. 

Protected.

I had two jobs to do. 

End the war and destroy the Matrix. These, I accepted.

Coming back to life hurt more than dying had.    
  


xXx

Of course The Matrix had a new lackey. 

It wasn’t an “ancient” relic for nothing--it knew how to get a host. 

“It’s Rodimus now.” Said mech told me, slightly nervous. I snorted through my vents. 

“You changed his name to Rodimus?” I sneered, having no issue revealing that I knew it was in control. That it was there, creeping along the lines of a body much younger than mine. 

Rodimus--Hot Rod, looked confused. 

“Don’t play dumb.” I said, voice low, trying my best to keep things civil when all I wanted to do was rage and tear the thing out before it infected another. Before it ruined another. 

Before it ruined Hot Rod.

That’s why I’d pulled the mech into this “meeting.” Everyone thought it was so Rodimus could quietly return the Matrix--and the title of Prime. 

If only things were so simple. 

It let me back Hot Rod up. Stupid of it, but it thought it could control me. Had control of me. 

Primus had not failed me, and I could feel the Matrix's confusion as it’s attempts to “snatch” me bounced right off.

I had little time left before it realized what I was here to do. It was used to my anger and hatred towards it, but it wasn’t anticipating an attack. 

I had a short window of time to take it off guard, before it tried to defend itself--or injure Hot Rod.

“Open for me.” I told it, stepping closer and knowing it would obey. 

It did. 

Red chest plates slide aside, Hot Rod’s chest opening to show the Matrix, happily settled in it’s summer house. It’s vacation had been fun, but it wanted to go home--thought it was.

I could feel that much, when I focused. It didn’t effect me, not anymore--but I knew what to look for. 

I was counting on that. That familiarity. I could predict exactly what it wanted, what it would do, and I would use that to get it out. 

It was waiting for me to trigger my own chest plates. To pick it up and settle it back in. Power pulsed, Hot Rod shuddering as the Matrix withdrew from his mind. 

Scared optics met mine, as I nudged Hot Rod to sit down, on the edge of a berth. He did so, fans clicking in distress on as he slowly regained parts of his body back. I bent over him, made as though I was going to reach into his chest. 

I had hoped this would be easy. That my own familiarity with the Matrix would allow me to simple pick it up--letting me go from there.

I should have known better.

It had stayed with me longer than any other. Long enough to read intentions. It couldn’t get me, couldn’t control me, but it knew me, and it caught on far too soon. 

Power re-surged, Hot Rod’s head slamming against the berth as The Matrix resumed it’s control.

“No.” It spat, in a voice that sounded ripped from the Primeling’s vocalizer. _“No!”_

“Yes.” I told it firmly, quick to use my weight to pin the speedster down. Jazz had suggested getting Hot Rod just as he was, in case something like this occured. It allowed me to take over immediately, with minimum damage to Hot Rod, while freeing my hands to grab hold of the Matrix.  

I’d have to thank him later. 

I wasn’t keen on ripping it out--but I didn’t think it would kill Hot Rod. Was counting on it, in fact.

Because there was no other way to remove the fucking thing.

If it did-- well.

That was something I would live with, if I destroyed the Matrix in the process. The best I could promise Hot Rod, the best I could promise anyone, was that the Matrix would never attach itself to anyone, ever again.  

“You don’t understand.” The Matrix grit out through Hot Rod’s teeth, convulsing his body. “None of you  _ understand!” _

“No.” I agreed. “And  I never will.” Never wanted to. Not after all the years I spent trying. 

 Glowing blue optics met mine, a  _ thing _ looking at me, controlling a field that was trying to get a hold of my own. It  didn't understand why it couldn't control me, couldn't reach me. That had likely, never happened to it. Not in all it's time, with any of its hosts. 

Whatever was held in the Matrix, we were beyond it. Primus was beyond it. 

It was past time for it to be retired.

I reached in, Hot Rod screaming all the while, and gripped the Matrix. It enacted it’s last, desperate attempt at self defense and burned me. The smell of charred metal filled the air as Hot Rod bucked under me.  I held on. Gave a scream of my own, to help endure the pain. Something grabbed at my mind, trying to burn things out of there too but it had never been able to touch long term memories.

My weakness to it was now my strength--I knew too much.

It couldn’t hold me.

Every inch cost me. The Matrix was giving it all it had, and Hot Rod for all his youth was no slouch. I took a battering ripping the fucking thing out, but I did it.

I did it. Yanked it free of Hot Rod’s chest, held it up and threw it against the wall

Hot Rod collapsed, voice cut off as though his vocals had shorted. They might have--I wouldn’t know.

I wasn’t all that sure my vocals hadn't gone out either, just then. 

I couldn’t focus on him now though. Later yes--but now, I needed to contain the Matrix. 

Before it got up and moved on it’s own. 

I had been prepared for this part--and I grasped the box I had made just for this, hidden carefully out of sight. Approached the damn thing like humans approached a snake. Like it might sprout fangs and strike at any moment.

It technically did--or rather it tried to. A faint pulse shot through into me--through me--but it wasn’t enough. 

I had been protected, just as I had been promised.

I contained the thing, locking down the box and giving it a vicious shake. 

Finally. 

It was _over._

Jazz and Prowl had been instructed to guard the door. To ignore any noise that came from it--something they had done a wonderful job of. They both turned as the door opened, faces carefully blank as I stepped forward and presented Jazz with the box. 

“Keep it somewhere safe until we can discuss what to do with it.”  I instructed, tone as serious as I could make it. “ _ Do not _ open it.” 

Jazz accepted the box with a nod, and I knew my crew would be safe. The Matrix had a habit of calling people to it--that’s how it had gotten me. How it trapped Hot Rod. Jazz was a master of making things vanish, and I trusted him to do what needed to be done to keep it out of reach from everyone until further steps could be taken. 

Particularly if Prowl was backing him up.

Their bond would keep them safe--to overtake a previously bonded pair the Matrix would need both mechs under it's control. I knew that was hard for it to do--it wasn't made for that. 

Task assigned, I hailed Ratchet over the comms and returned to the room, where Hot Rod was coming to. 

With help he sat up slowly,  frame shaking and optics near white. He took one look at me, then another at the door--no doubt he could feel the pull. The whispering demands to  _ come here, pick me up, put me in.  _

I told him to ignore it. To sync his vent cycle with mine. To sit for a moment, while we waited for Ratchet. 

My dearest friend had just come through the door when Hot Rod’s shock finally wore off and he bolted to go purge. 

“What happened!?” Ratchet demanded immediately, no doubt hit by the smell of burning metal. His optics had gone wide before narrowing, raking down my body and zeroing in on my charred hands. 

“A victory.” I said because fuck it, I could. “Check Hot Rod first--he’s in bad shape.” 

I got curses as a response but Ratchet knew me well enough to go pull Hot Rod out of the bathroom he’d darted into. 

Knowing this might be the outcome--if not something worse, I had picked my habsuit to do this in. The privacy was of course, the main concern, but also due to proximity of Ratchet’s own hab, and the med center.

Also the fact there weren't too many other places to do it in. Not where we wouldn't be disturbed, or interrupted. 

I had walked in here not knowing if Hot Rod was going to walk out. 

I still wasn’t sure.

I stood up as Ratchet yelled at me to help him, went to help ferry Hot Rod back to the berth. The younger mech was bad off but his chest hadn’t been horribly damaged. He had minor burns at most, the Matrix having only done so at the end.

It didn’t like harming it’s host. 

Not physically anyway.

I explained the important bits to Ratchet as he set to work. Explained to him and Hot Rod--not that I expected the later to be in the right frame of mind to listen--that the true danger was the withdrawal. 

“Treat it like a Syk addiction.” I suggested, sitting behind Hot Rod and letting my presence calm his. We had similar fields now--similar auras. I didn’t have to be told to know it would be comforting for Hot Rod to be near me, as I was the nearest thing that felt like the Matrix.

I told them both that too.

“Come to me anytime.” I said, voice gentle. “My door will always open for you.” 

It would. 

If I did nothing else since I came back, I would make sure the younger mech lived--and that the Matrix touched no one else. 

Ever.

xXx

Rodimus wanted to keep the name. 

“Felt like I earned it.” He told me quietly, frame slouched against mine. My hab was big enough to allow a small couch and a chair, and I used both to entertain as many people as I could now that I was capable. 

“Keep it then.” I told him, because frag, he _ had  _ earned it. Hell, if he wanted to run around calling himself a Prime I’d told him I’d back him up on that too. 

We had all agreed to lie. The mechs in command who knew, Rodimus and I. Tell everyone that I still had the Matrix, that Rodimus had relinquished it. 

We agreed that the Matrix would die with me as well. Rodimus would carry the position of Prime, but his anointment would be received “telepathically.”  

Magically.

“The Matrix’s body is destroyed but it has returned to me, is in me.” Rodimus would say. "As it shall be passed on, from here on out."

He couldn’t say it yet, not convincingly. Not without his voice catching, or a shudder wracking his frame.

That was fine.

He would get it eventually. 

He was doing better. He’d lost friends, as Rodimus Prime. Lost more now that he’d returned. People didn’t understand him--why he jumped at loud voices, why he was sensitive to certain things. Could never. Especially since he’d agreed to never tell them. 

Losing Springer and Arcee had been hard on him--they were his core. The Matrix had pushed both to join the Wreckers though, had done it’s best to sabotage their and Rodimus’s relationship. 

It had learned no doubt, the benefits of doing so after my little betrayal of it with Prowl and Jazz. 

It had never recovered from that. From when it had been knocked out of my chest. It had done it’s best to ferret out information but my team was the best. They had hidden everything from me, and the Matrix had been stuck.

Frustrated, but left in the dark. 

Ratchet had introduced Rodimus another mech in the meantime, an Ex-Con by the name of Drift. His past history with Syk and battle-lust had given him an instant understanding of Rodimus, even if the explanation he was given for the younger mech’s predicament was utter bullshit.

He knew it was, of course. Mech was smart. But he knew better than to ask. 

I was glad for them both.

The war was coming to a close. Jazz and Prowl had done as asked. They had killed Megatron, put an end to the Decepticons.

The fragger had come back of course, but we were dealing with him much better this round. The Decepticons as a whole had taken several hits, the biggest of which was the loss of their Second in command.

Starscream looked brilliant with a red insignia instead of purple. 

He proclaimed he hated it; but then, he proclaimed he hated everything, including me, and I knew for a fact that was a lie.

All I knew was, for once, I could look forward to a life that may not be peaceful, but was no longer cursed. 

It was all I wanted. 


End file.
